Home for the Holidays
by J. Fiasco
Summary: Kurt is home from Dalton over Christmas break and is still adjusting to his new family life.  Mostly centers on the Furt/brotherly meme with possible Klaine in the future. Rated T for adult situations. Please R&R.


_One. Two. Thr-._ This was utterly pointless. Who ever thought of counting sheep, anyway? Kurt Hummel lay on his back still achingly alert, sleep seeming to be unattainable this night even after numerous glasses of warm milk and 3 doses of NyQuil. In years past, it was the thought of Santa on the rooftop and presents under the tree that had caused him to stir like this on Christmas Eve, but this year it was the surreality of his new life. Not ten feet away¸ snoring like a rusty buzzsaw, was the former subject of his most sordid fantasies—his new stepbrother, Finn Hudson.

The most ironic part of all may have been that Kurt no longer cared about that. He was now fixated on another. He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone, but his semi-mopey behavior as a result of their separation for the holiday break had to be a sign to some. He didn't really feel like gossiping with Mercedes or hanging out with the New Directions or the family. Even holiday home décor —a passion of his—couldn't drag Kurt of this malaise. All he wanted to do was stare into the dark pools that were Blaine's eyes, so deep that staring too long enough would result in being lost in their abyss. And then there were those gorgeous lips. So pillowy soft and twisted into a wry, come-hither smile, they would pout and begged to be kissed. He imagined kissing those lips, biting each one until they were beet red then working his way down Blaine's perfectly chiseled abdomen, tonguing each inch of flesh. After opening the fly of his slacks, he'd tease by playfully biting at his hardness through the fabric of his black boxer briefs.

It took little more than these imaginings to excite Kurt at this point, and before long, a tightness had developed in the front of his pajama pants. Had he been at Dalton, in his single room, he'd simply release this pent-up tension, usually uttering his infatuation's name at his climax. He was tempted to do the same now, even as Finn slept just across the room. After all, the boy was a notoriously sound sleeper and any deviation in the snoring would be a dead giveaway. With thoughts of Blaine clouding his judgement, Kurt slid his pants and boxers just below his knees, still under the safety of his bedsheets. He began gingerly tugging at his erection as he licked his lips, eyes closed in anticipation. Somewhat reserved, he began stroking the length of his member, bucking his hips every so often and occasionally reaching up with his left hand to pinch a clothed, yet engorged nipple. His breathing suddenly became deeper as he kept his eyes closed due to a combination of ecstasy and the increasing heft of his eyelids. Moments later, his hands ceased their motion, both resting at the base of his still rigid shaft. He drifted off into slumber with visions of not sugar plums but Blaine's torso in his head.

As Christmas mornings tend to do, the next morning began with some fanfare in the Hummel-Hudson household. This was mostly Finn's doing as he, like a small child in the personage of a large football player, expectantly arose and bounded out of his bed. He went over to his stepbrother's side of the room and shook him while exclaiming joyously, "It's Christmas! Get up!"

A small groan escaped Kurt's mouth but his eyes remained closed. "Kurt!" Finn exhorted again.

This time it elicited a response from Kurt. Breathily he uttered, "Blaine." Dissatisfied with this response, Finn now lightly shook the younger boy, again announcing "It's Christmas!" He then yanked the covers off him as Kurt finally stirred from his stupor.

"Whoa!" Finn exclaimed as Kurt's boner still at full mast came into plain view, pants and underwear bunched at his ankles.

"What the hell, Finn! Do you have no concept of boundaries?" Kurt huffed in exasperation as he attempted to pull his pants over his still swollen cock.

"Hey, I was just trying to get you up for Christmas, but it looks like you already are," he said with a chuckle. He was obviously trying to defuse the awkwardness with humor but also seemed to enjoy watching Kurt squirm in embarrassment. "Have a good dream, bro?" he added with a sheepish grin still plastered on his face.

"You are such a child, Frankenteen!" Despite his reply, the mortification plainly read on Kurt's face as he replaced the covers up to his shoulders and laid down with his back to Finn.

"Hey! Come on, it's time to open up presents," Finn was obstinate in his Christmas spirit, but now appealed more softly to his stepbrother. "It's not even that a big deal, Kurt. You wake up like that all the time! I do too! It's just something that happens in the morning."

At that Kurt thought back on the numerous times during their time rooming together, particularly since the wedding when Finn seemingly let his guard down, that he'd awake to find one or both of them with a stubborn case of morning wood. Interestingly, Finn seemed surprisingly nonchalant about it, considering he'd literally put his pants and underwear on in the shower to evade Kurt's supposed ogling. These days, however, he'd wordlessly hop out of bed with his dick at full attention, the pinkish head often poking out after escaping from the fly of Finn's boxers as he went about his entire pre-shower morning routine of checking his phone for messages before walking across to Kurt's side of the room to get on the computer.

"Come on, dude, we're brothers now. That kind of shit is bound to happen sooner or later," Finn said in a still kinder tone, which caused Kurt to turn and face him, still under the blankets. "Now do I have to carry you upstairs, or are you going to come help me open these presents?"

Kurt's initial anger waned as he found some comfort in this newfound common vulnerability with Finn. "Yeah. Go wake up Dad and Carole and I'll be on my way in a minute," he replied with a sigh.

"OK, bro," Finn said excitedly as he turned, instantly switching back into his more childlike demeanor. "You probably should take care of that anyways," he snickered as he climbed the stairs. He stopped halfway up and turned around to look back at his brother and asked, "By the way, Kurt, who's Blaine?"


End file.
